Isn’t it a shame that the right love
Always comes at the wrong time
That all that you thought you were above
Drags you down, as if this love is a crime?
It makes me scream into pillows,
Slam doors in my mind,
Cry as I bellow
“What was my crime?“
I guess I was too naive,
To believe that I was above it all,
That the good never comes coupled with bad,
That opposites don’t attract,
That love comes without hate,
Without crying, tears.
But now I know.